The Propriety Fiction
by WadeH
Summary: Elizabeth Bennet enters the Netherfield Ball with a desperate plan in mind, willing to break or at least bend all the rules of propriety. How desperate? Let's find out.
1. Retroactive

_A/N: Hey Gang! I'm back - more or less. I'd say that 'the rumors of my demise were exaggerated', but Mark Twain wasn't even born for another 20 years. Believe it or not, it's been over a year since I published my last story, Emma Bee. I have been working like a galley slave that entire time, so had no time to devote to writing. My wife and I own a software company, and we were getting a new product out the door. It is a mobile product to help with management of Cancer Therapy, and we are quite proud of it._

_I probably still won't have much time for writing for the next six months, but I have a half‑dozen short stories and a couple novels floating around my head, so let's see if I can get them down on paper._

_Much like when I wrote The Wedding Afternoon, I am on vacation with my family now. I have been thinking through this story so long I wrote the whole thing in one jet-lagged morning starting at 5AM. I was basically just transcribing it as I had it in my head. I wrote it when we were in Scotland, more specifically the Shetland Islands. We're big fans of the BBC TV Series Shetland, so we wanted to see where it was filmed. It's a great place to visit, highly recommended._

_I've lately been thinking a lot about manners and propriety. They make up so much of the dramatic elements for this genre. I suspect they weren't quite so much in real-life back then, but it is a useful convention for making stories and most Regency readers understand it. They're so inconsistent. Caroline Bingley and Lady Catherine are absolutely horrid in every way, yet they consider the Bennets unmannered. Mr. Darcy is a bit of an a**hole himself, but he talks about Lydia's improprieties. And then the Regency taken as a whole had a much more varied social system than you would think based on reading the stories. It's all wonderfully confusing, so I have at least 3 short stories and one novel all centered around etiquette, following the usual conventions for this genre rather than what may or may not have been Regency RL. This is the first, and I may eventually combine several of them into one collection. _

_This is a Regency short story, but with a couple of words that are common in modern times but were in use but uncommon back then. It's a short story of 9 chapters, about 15k._

_Fluff Warning: This story is short and uber-fluffy. You'll be lucky to keep all your teeth. FPPOV. Less OOC than my usual. Enjoy!_

_Wade_

* * *

"Mr. Darcy, might I ask a favor."

The words were not even half out of my mouth before I wished I could take them back. I believed these could be the seven worst words spoken in history, despite the fact I immediately recognized such a sentiment as utter hyperbolic nonsense. I was about to turn purple with embarrassment, but since I was just about to spend an evening at the Netherfield ball with the Bennet family, things were quite likely to get worse before they got better. I had a mother and three sisters who were almost guaranteed to mortify me as usual, and since the date was the 26th of November, it being an even number, my father might even come in for his fair share of odd behavior. All of that was a normal part of life for a Bennet, but I didn't expect _myself_ to be the one to start the improprieties. What in the world was I thinking?

The Netherfield entry hall was crowded with all our friends and neighbors. Everyone was trying to be somewhat circumspect with their staring at the grand ballroom. I myself had abandoned my sisters a few minutes ago and ran into Mr. Darcy in a quiet corner of the entry hall whole I tried to hide from both my mother and Mr. Colins. While I suffered a momentary lapse as I thought about how to reel-back the last sentence; I had to sheepishly admit, that if you threw enough money at Caroline Bingley she could serve as a very good hostess, so long as I didn't have to _endure her presence_. The ballroom was exquisite, and much more tasteful than I would have expected based on her past behavior or how she dressed. Maybe she had more depth than I had given her credit for, although I have no idea how much pride she could take from exceeding such a low bar.

These thoughts flitted through my mind in but a moment, which was entirely enough time for me to turn red from the end of my hair all the way to my toes I am quite certain. I thought if I examined my slippers, I would no doubt find my shoe-roses changed as well. I had an embarrassing request to make, and somehow in my distress, I had managed to mortify myself by asking _the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to_ ask a favor from.

Eventually recovering, I tried to salvage what was left of my dignity.

"My apologies, Mr. Darcy. I spoke out of turn. Please forget I said anything. Enjoy the ball sir. I must give my compliments to the hostess."

With that, I executed a reasonable if somewhat hurried curtsy, and turned to walk away quickly, looking for Jane, or Mary or Charlotte or _anyone_ who was _not_ Mr. Darcy. Even Mama would be an improvement over my current awkwardness.

I had only made it a few paces before the gentleman startled me by catching up effortlessly, and I cursed the fact that men could practically run in their trousers without raising any eyes, while we had to glide along like ducks in our dresses and could not escape elegantly.

He replied with a surprising, "Miss Elizabeth, if there is a service you require, it would be my privilege to perform it."

Worse, and worse.

"Please, Mr. Darcy, think nothing of it. I let my tongue get ahead of my head. I would consider it a favor if you forget I said anything."

The man looked at me in that odd staring way he had, which had the effect of vexing me instead of amusing me as usual, but now was not the time to lose my temper or make a scene. Not knowing what else to do, I curtsied with a bit more elegance (or truth be told, less sloppiness), and turned to walk away again, but he surprised me again.

"Please, Miss Elizabeth."

I paused mid-stride and looked at him in surprise. It was the firmest fixture of my mind that he would be scowling at me in disapproval as usual, but… well… he was not. He was… well, to tell the truth, I had no idea what he looked like. I expected he would soon change his expression to one more appropriate for dealing with a simpleton, because that is certainly what I was acting like. He actually… looked… concerned? When I coupled that expression with the gentleness of his voice, I had the strangest feeling that something was happening I did not quite understand. I wondered how it was possible that I was surprised the man of his standing could show… simple courtesy. He was acting in a _gentlemanlike manner_, which was… unexpected. With a little bit of surprise at myself, I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, despite the fact that revising first opinions was not usually considered my strong suit.

While I was busy debating with myself about what to do, the gentleman surprised me yet again.

"Miss Elizabeth, evidence would suggest that you _are in fact in need of a favor_ but are reluctant to ask me. My guess would be that you find the required favor… embarrassing? Or perhaps you think it a task that _I_ will disapprove… or perhaps one that I might think beneath me?"

I had to admit that he was more perceptive than I had given him credit for, and being unable to really answer, I simply nodded while I stared at my shoes, only briefly glancing at his face which had a slightly different expression from any I had seen before.

"Miss Elizabeth, would you be willing to enter into a small agreement with me?"

At this point, my surprise was complete and absolute, but my natural curiosity overrode my embarrassment (by a very small margin). Ladies were not supposed to enter 'agreements' with gentlemen except in vary narrow and frankly ridiculous constraints according to the myriad rules of propriety. However, he seemed in earnest, and nobody was here to witness it, so I screwed up my courage to ask, "What type of agreement, Mr. Darcy?"

Once again to my surprise, he replied with the gentlest voice I had yet heard him use, "Something like I have with my solicitor. We will sometimes have a conversation that is considered _confidential_. In the law, it is called attorney-client privilege. Anything said is strictly between the two parties, and no judgment or censure may be rendered on the conversation. If you will tell me the favor you require, I will promise to never repeat it, or make any judgment whatsoever about it."

At this point I was probably looking at him very oddly, because his face… well, it seemed to _soften_. I was probably being overly fanciful, and maybe it was nothing other than the fact that he had made such an unusual offer to me – but at that moment, I was very much predisposed to _not _dislike the man quite so much as usual. I had always assumed he would be very much a stickler for propriety and protocol, but here he was offering to step outside of all the normal bounds of public discourse, at probably some minor risk to his own sensibilities and reputation.

I like to think that I am somewhat cleverer than the average female, or even the average person in general, and my father likes to assert that I'm a bit less silly than the rest of my sisters; so I imagined I should be able to work my way through such a simple problem, given an hour or two to think about it; but I did not really have an hour or two, so I simply did what my instinct said.

"You are correct, Mr. Darcy. I am in fact, in need of some service, but is both embarrassing, and…"

At this point I paused, trying to see if I was willing to say the next few words, but finally continued, "… and… well outside of the bounds of propriety."

He gave me a little bit of a perplexed look, then much to my surprise, followed it with a bit of a lopsided grin. It was the first time I had ever seen any expression on his face other than his usual haughty façade, and it surprised me enough to actually smile back at him, which I imagine was probably the first time I had ever done so. For some reason, a very minor bout of silliness seemed to encompass both of us, because we simultaneously softened both expressions to where we could almost be thought to be smiling at each other. I had to admit, he was frightfully handsome when he did smile – which might be the reason for his typical stern face. I imagine if he smiled as much as Jane or Mr. Bingley, he would be fighting off the ladies of the _ton_ with an axe most of the time.

Surprisingly enough, even though we had possibly been in each other's company for all of two minutes now, it felt like it had been longer, and somewhat… well, I wouldn't say _pleasant_, but certainly _less unpleasant_ than I expected our interactions to usually be.

He surprised me yet again by replying, "I will assume that whatever it is you require is _not dishonorable_, since it is well beyond my capability to imagine you engaging in anything like that. If you are willing to trust me with your request, I will accept it, deny it, or suggest an alternative – but I will keep it in the strictest confidence, and I will not censure you in any way. It will be in strictest confidence."

Ordinarily, the offer to keep a conversation in confidence would not be considered anything out of the ordinary among friends or even casual acquaintances, but it had to say something about our peculiar relationship that I found him offering the most basic levels of gentlemanly behavior to be surprising. It took me a few minutes to realize that aside from one churlish statement he made at the beginning of our acquaintance, he had actually been perfectly polite most of the time. He was odd and frequently distant and unapproachable, but nothing had ever actually shown him to be dishonest or immoral in any way. In fact, even though he had grievously wounded my vanity at the assembly that first night, I had to grudgingly give him some credit. He might not think much of me, but at least he was honest - and that was worth something in our society where nobody was ever allowed to say what they really thought, and subterfuge was frequently the coin of the realm.

It took me a few seconds to make my decision, and he once again raised in my estimation by simply awaiting my pleasure, showing neither boredom, nor indecision nor any other negative feeling. At long last, I decided that I would just trust him.

"Mr. Darcy, I need…"

At this point, I paused a little bit, as the moment of decision was upon me. Finally, deciding to trust him to be a gentleman, I continued, "… I need someone to request the first set from me. It needs to be someone _insignificant_ – someone who would not raise any…"

At this point, I think I started turning red again, before continuing, "… _unrealistic expectations_ with it being the opening dance. That obviously excludes you, but nearly anyone else would do."

Once again, I found myself staring at my shoes, now only glancing up periodically at his reaction. From his expression, I had to guess that he was – perplexed?

He replied relatively quickly, saying, "I admit to being somewhat confused, Miss Elizabeth. If you wish to be asked for the first set, all you need do is walk into the ballroom. Were you not here talking to me, you no doubt already would have been solicited."

This left me at the point where I had to actually finish the sentence.

"I am afraid Mr. Darcy, I need somebody to ask me… _retroactively_."

His look of perplexity continued for another moment, and then I saw his eyes light up with understanding. I wondered what he would do with such an unusual request, but he did not leave me waiting very long.

"So, you wish to _avoid_ dancing the first with someone who might have asked you… recently?"

To this, I could only nod sheepishly. He now knew my shameful conduct. I was trying to avoid a dance without giving up dancing for the rest of the night as the rules of propriety demanded.

His face become a little bit more, perhaps thoughtful, or pensive. He started to raise his finger, much like you would expect a tutor to do when proposing an idea or starting a new topic, and said, "Perhaps, Miss Elizabeth, we need a _Propriety Fiction._"

At this point, I am quite certain my face showed pure confusion, since I had not the slightest idea what he was talking about, so I replied, "My apologies sir, but I have no idea what that is."

He actually chuckled, which surprised me yet again, and replied, "Probably because I just made it up."

The chuckle just left me confused, which he had to notice, as he lost the chuckle, but did _not_ revert to his usual stern expression. Instead, his expression was again soft and accommodating as he continued.

"I borrowed yet another concept from legal circles. In the law, they use a construct called a _Legal Fiction_. It is used for breaking entails, among other things. It applies where several parties wish to meet the strict requirements of the law, whilst going against the spirit. It consists of several parties _agreeing_ that something is _true_, even though it may not be _factual_."

I was still confused, but since he seemed to have some idea of what we were discussing, I thought I might go along. So, it was a sneaky way to lie, but since it was an agreed practice, and everyone important knew the lie, it was acceptable. Confusing, but I would take it.

"That seems like a good solution Mr. Darcy. I understand it is asking a lot, so are you willing to assist me? If not, I will need to… ask another."

I was really beginning to question why I was not just asking one of the men I had known all my life for the favor, but the cat was out of the bag now, so I had to see it through.

Mr. Darcy, to his credit gave me a look that was at least neutral, then surprised me by raising his right hand to just below shoulder level with his index finger raised and looked over at a very well_‑_dressed servant who was presently speaking with Mrs. Northcutt, Netherfield's housekeeper.

The man broke off his conversation and walked over to us, and Mr. Darcy curiously stated, "Miss Elizabeth Bennet, this is Mr. Smithson, my valet. Smithson, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Miss Elizabeth, Smithson is the most trustworthy man I know, bar-none. Are you willing to allow me to ask him to _discreetly_ do what must be done?"

This line of reasoning was entirely surprising to me, but I was certainly amenable to any solution to my present dilemma, since I had given serious consideration to cutting my own throat or breaking my own ankle just to avoid dancing the first with my cousin Collins. That I would avoid at all costs. Mr. Smithson was the type of man who just engendered trust. I have no idea how, or why, or whether it was an attitude that he was born with or he had been trained into over many years, but he certainly seemed trustworthy enough to me.

I gave him a small curtsy, which was slightly out of character for a servant, but if he was willing to help me I was certainly willing to show him some courtesy. Mr. Darcy leaned across to him and whispered into his ear for a surprisingly short amount of time. Mr. Smithson in his turn, nodded a few times, turned to me and said, "You may leave it in my hands, Miss Elizabeth."

With that, he bowed, turned and disappeared into the crowd. I turned back to thank Mr. Darcy. I imagined I might have to rethink my acquaintanceship with that gentleman, as he had just done me a favor for no reason other than that I had asked.


	2. Explanation

With the first set taken care of, I released some tension I had not realized I was holding and wondered what to do next. I had entered the ballroom with no objective but to find a way to dance with someone amiable, and avoid dancing with people where were not amiable… or sensible… or succinct… or… I could go on for some time in that vein, so I thought I should quit and be just a bit sensible myself.

"I thank you, Mr. Darcy. You have done me a great service, sir."

I thought that would be the end of it and reached down for my dress to take my leave of the gentleman, but he surprised me with a question.

"Miss Elizabeth, I would never dream of asking for a confidence I had not earned, but since we are already in a privileged and private conversation, would you be willing to satisfy my curiosity."

I must have flinched a bit, as he quickly continued, "Please, do not be uneasy, Miss Elizabeth. I certainly am not demanding a quid quo pro, or even demanding to be in your confidence. You may forget I asked."

At that point, it became obvious to me that I was being churlish enough to pass for Miss Bingley. All I was missing was a sufficiently expensive dress and haughty expression, and the realization was _not_ very much to my liking. A man like Mr. Darcy was probably hunted like sport every day of his life and had to be _very_ careful about _all_ his interactions. It was obvious that my mother was not the first matchmaking Mama he had dealt with, nor would she be the last. She certainly was not the most subtle or clever, so helping me had to have been done this favor out of the kindness of his heart, because it certainly was not a sensible thing for him to do.

He was watching me intently, and it occurred to me that he was in fact _watching me_, as contrasted to my own self-inflicted term of _starting at me_. The same expression could mean very different things depending on how you interpreted it… and at that moment… something… surprisingly… made me loathe to disappoint him. It mattered not whether the motivation was simple gratitude, courtesy or justice; I wanted to answer the question, so I did.

"Mr. Darcy, our… acquaintance has been… somewhat uneasy, would you not agree?"

He seemed a bit confused by this, but eventually nodded, so I continued.

"I found myself quite surprised when I asked for the favor. You have been quite the gentleman, and I thank you for that. I once again find myself surprised, but…"

I think I probably looked a bit embarrassed or confused again, but I screwed up my courage to continue, and added, "… I find I wish to… well… confide in you."

I was having trouble looking at his face, but when I did peek at him, I saw something unexpected. He was smiling softly at me, something like I apply to my sisters… almost affectionate. It was the look he gave when saying something about _his_ sister when he thought nobody was looking… or at least, Miss Bingley was not looking. He had never seemed to mind that I could see the expression, or perhaps he just did not pay as much attention to whether I was watching him as he obviously did with the _Netherfield Huntress_.

Sufficiently buoyed by his look, I simply told him the plain unvarnished truth… for perhaps the first time in our history.

Engaging his eyes, I looked over to a gaggle of my sisters and asked, "Do you see the parson over there beside Jane?"

He looked at Mr. Collins and nodded.

"He is my distant cousin, Mr. Collins. Longbourn _is entailed, in default of heirs male_, and he is the heir presumptive. He has apparently decided to _heal the breach_, which I have presume to mean he wishes to wed one of the Bennet sisters. Unless I am mistaken, it seems likely that, _I_ _was selected from among my sisters as worthy of being mistress of Hunsford Parsonage, and of assisting to form a quadrille table at Rosings, in the absence of more eligible visitors. _He is your aunt, Lady Catherine's rector it seems."

I wondered what in the world had caused me to tell Mr. Darcy of all people such an intimate secret, especially when Mr. Collins had not technically done anything but talk to me more excessively than he talked to everyone else (excessively) and ask me for a set. I was not even sure I would be willing to confide it in Charlotte, but here I was telling Mr. Darcy. I looked at him to see his reaction, and once again saw a look difficult to interpret, but if I had to guess, I would have to say it was one of abject horror.

I was just wondering what he could possibly say. He mumbled something that included the words _'dead body'_, but then shook his head a bit and nodded. I felt that I was in for a penny now, so continued, "He has not said anything formal, but he has been following me like a very noisy puppy for days and spent a good ten minutes asking for the first set."

For some unknown reason, even though I had just spilled my most private and personal information to Mr. Darcy, and by all rights I should have been more embarrassed than I was certain to be later after Lydia hit the punch table, I _was __not_. I actually felt… confused, so I continued.

"Pray, Mr. Darcy. I am certain that was far more than you wanted to know, so I hope I did not make you uncomfortable."

I glanced at him, and he did look uncomfortable, but not censorious… actually… not censorious in the least.

Apparently sensing my disquiet, he once again surprised me by saying, "Perhaps I am just a bit uncomfortable Miss Elizabeth, but that feeling is far surpassed by a feeling of… well, to be honest, a feeling of privilege."

This sentiment made me quite snap my head up from the floor I had been staring at in surprise and found him smiling at me… and I thought the expression was something that should be considered a deadly weapon. It thoroughly disarmed me, so I screwed up my courage, and continued, "He asked for the first set, and the only excuse I could come up with was that I had a prior engagement. I suspect my reprieve will only be temporary, but I will not allow him the first set. I would have been willing to forego all dancing to avoid that."

Mr. Darcy just nodded in understanding, but then said the most surprising thing.

"Miss Elizabeth, I can well sympathize with your position. The rules of propriety are mostly… er… useful to some extent in protecting us, but a good many of them are just plain ridiculous. The fact that you must forego the pleasure of dancing just because you do not wish to dance with a specific partner and cannot come up with an excuse fast enough is horrible. Your secret is safe with me, and…"

He seemed to be uncertain whether to continue, so I just quirked an eyebrow at him to encourage him. It occurred to me I had no idea how he was going to solve my dilemma of the first set, but completely surprised myself that I was not actually worried. He said the problem was solved, ergo it was solved. As I was lost with this thought, he continued.

"… if it makes you any more comfortable, I believe the man that is set to stand for your first set can actually make a quite reasonable claim to you owing him a dance. He was not planning to dance the first, and certainly will not make any _expectations that cannot not be fulfilled_."

Well, this was just plain mysterious. I could think of any number of men who could claim I owed them a dance, if they stretched the truth far enough, but I had no idea Mr. Darcy would know any of them; but then again, I had no idea what gentlemen discussed amongst themselves. I judged that in less than an hour the problem would be solved, and since I had decided to trust Mr. Darcy even without the details, I would just continue to do so.

In fact, since I had his confidence, I thought I might be able to do something for Jane while I was at it, since it was hardly likely I could embarrass myself any more than I already had.

"Mr. Darcy, would you be willing to hear one more thing in confidence?"

He smiled again, which was becoming alarmingly common. It was alarming mostly because every time he aimed that thing at me I appreciated it just a bit more. He nodded, so I continued.

"Well sir…"

At that point, I lost my courage, and he did the strangest thing. We had been standing facing each other in a relatively hidden corner for some time, but as we had exchanged confidences… or more like I had given him my confidences, while he gradually changed his facial expressions… we had been gradually moving closer to each other. Only a foot or two now separated us, probably slightly less than propriety strictly called for. It was still far more than the few inches Caroline Bingley regularly imposed on the poor man with - but much closer than I had ever stood with such a handsome gentleman. At any rate, as my courage faltered, he reached over to my hand, and squeezed it. There was nothing improper about it. We were both wearing gloves, and he could well have pulled my hand up and kissed it without raising any eyebrows, but it was, somehow a bit intimate… or at least, it was enough to give me some courage.

"… well, my sister Jane and I swore to each other that we would only marry for the deepest of love… or at the very least, the deepest of respect. We may end our days as companions or governesses, but we would do that rather than suffer an… imprudent marriage. Witnessing one marriage with fortune but without respect has quite put us off the idea."

He looked astounded at that declaration, so I thought I should just finish.

"I know it is not the fashion to _not_ pay obsessive attention to fortune and position. Make no mistake, we have no desire to starve in the hedgerows, but… we will not marry just for material gain or comfort. I know it is selfish, but that is the way it is."

I was now even more embarrassed than at the beginning of the conversation, and he said the oddest thing.

"I admire that, Miss Elizabeth. I admire it very much."

I of course knew, like everyone knew, that a man like Mr. Darcy _must_ wed with fortune and connections in mind. Too many depended on him maintaining his family's status and position, so he was almost as constrained as I was. But to hear that he admired my ridiculous and probably half suicidal attitude was… heartening.

He had, while I was at Netherfield, shown himself to be a man of sense and education, so I was sure he understood me. I hoped that he would show Jane some clemency if the time came for Mr. Bingley to make his declarations, and he _might_ even keep the Bingley sisters in line. I had taken a chance confiding in him, but quite surprisingly found that I did not repent my confidence. I had some faith in the man that he would do the honorable thing, as he had been doing all night.


	3. Arrangements

Having brought Mr. Darcy into my full confidence, I was a bit uncertain about what to do next. We had been talking long enough to cause gossip if it was noticed, but curiously enough, Mr. Darcy's reputation in the neighborhood was protecting us. After that slight at the first assembly, most of the gossiping ladies (and gentlemen - they were on average even worse) mostly ignored him. He was a conundrum, and they preferred gossip that required more endless repetition and less deep thought. We had been perfectly _visible_ but not _noticeable_. I would have laid odds that Charlotte Lucas know where I was and with whom, but nobody else really paid any attention. If Miss Bingley happened to see me she would have pitched a fit, but fortunately, she had been busy as hostess.

I was really wondering about my own attitude. I should have been off talking to my friends, or securing some dances beyond the first set, or… well, just being at a ball, but I was curiously reluctant to end my tête-à-tête with Mr. Darcy. Logic said he must be anxious to leave, either to do something more interesting, or at the very least to protect himself from gossip.

Something suddenly occurred to me. He _must_ be a man who had to be _very careful_ about all his social interactions. Were he to act like Mr. Bingley, he would have been leg shackled years ago. When in London, a conversation as long and intimate as we had just had would be reported in the tittle tattle sections of the paper, and rumors would have some connection between the two of us within the week. He must feel like a hunted animal.

I was just thinking to release him from his confinement, when Mr. Smithson returned. He bowed to me, gave me an endearing smile which was probably out of character for a valet, but he was not facing Mr. Darcy so I was fair game, and then said, "All is arranged as requested."

He then handed a small leather pouch to Mr. Darcy, who proceeded to put it into an inside pocket on his waistcoat. I looked at it curiously, so he said, "Just something I forgot to bring with me earlier."

Satisfied that Mr. Smithson was just being efficient, I put the first set out of my mind. If it was arranged to Mr. Darcy's satisfaction, it was good enough for me. Any outcome that did not involve dancing the first set with Mr. Collins was entirely to my satisfaction.

Returning to the time we had been in close conference, and the fact that a meeting between Mr. Darcy, myself and his valet was bound to raise some notice if anyone observed us, I finally decided I should be a bit less selfish and said, "Mr. Darcy, I cannot thank you enough for the help. You are free to pursue your own interests now, if you will once again accept my deepest gratitude."

Mr. Smithson walked away, and Mr. Darcy looked at me with a different look than any I had seen, and said, "Who says I am not pursuing my own interests right now, Miss Elizabeth?"

I must have looked shocked, because he was quick to add, "Do not be alarmed, madam. To be honest, this is the most diversion I have ever had at a ball. I mostly find them akin to torture. Would you be willing to entertain a request from me?"

Just about incapable of surprise at this point, I simply smiled and nodded, both of which were becoming easier as the evening progress. He was certainly not acting like the man I thought I knew, and I was starting to wonder if Mr. Wickham's story just might have a few holes in it. It was hard to imagine the man in front of me doing anything so terrible, but that was a discussion for another time. I found myself astounded to think that I quite looked forward to the very idea of a discussion with Mr. Darcy_ at another time_.

Mr. Darcy took my nod as acceptance, and said, "Miss Elizabeth. I would like to give you fair warning. Not now… in fact, not until at least after the third set, I am going to ask your permission to request the supper set from you."

That declaration left me very close to ruining my hairdo, as I just wanted to scratch my head in perplexity. Why would he ask such a peculiar thing in such a peculiar way? He was watching me carefully, with what I would have to call a mischievous grin while I tried to figure it out. When it finally came to me, I had to grin, before asking, "Another _Propriety Fiction_ Mr. Darcy?"

He chuckled again, which I was finding less alarming than I had previously, and replied, "More of a _Propriety Loophole_, I think."

I had to admit that it _was_ clever, and I also appreciated that he apparently respected my intellect enough to believe that I would know what a _loophole_ was, and that I could figure it out. It was not a word in very common use, but he knew enough of my education to believe I could decipher his meaning on my own, which thought showed an uncommon amount of respect for my intelligence. Just to be clear, I thought to tell him my thoughts.

"Very clever. If I deny you permission to even ask, then I will not have to sit out the rest of the dances. I will not be denying you a dance, but simply preventing the question in the first place. From a propriety standpoint, I will be acting as an advisor, not a potential dance partner."

The grin became even bigger, and I was just about to tell him that he would need to sheath that thing, when he said something even more astounding.

"One other thing, Miss Elizabeth. This is not a request… this is an… offer… for… a… service."

Burning with curiosity, I nodded to encourage him.

He looked serious, and said, "As the evening progresses, you may find yourself in need of filling the last set… which I fear is another of those sets laden with meaning for those tired of reading tea leaves. If, at any time during the night you say the word _'Finito'_ to me, I will ask you for the last set. We shall reverse the entire course of how dances are requested."

This once again left my hair in some danger, but I must confess that as odd as the conversation was, it filled me with a feeling of some… warmth, maybe. He had just assured me that not only had he found some mysterious man to take care of my first set, he would also personally see to it that I could avoid my cousin, or any other unpleasant man for the supper and/or last sets as required, and at my choice. He was basically offering me his protection for the three big symbolic sets of the evening, and I felt nothing but gratitude. I started to thank him, but he very forwardly put his finger on my lips and said, "No gratitude, Miss Elizabeth. I do this for my own reasons."

I at the very least gave him a real genuine smile, and he seemed content with that.

At a bit of a loss as to what to do, I looked around but was once again surprised when he asked, "Miss Elizabeth, would you mind introducing me to your cousin. If he is my aunt's parson, he will no doubt ambush me sooner or later anyway."

I should be embarrassed to admit that I snorted just like Lydia at this request, but I will go to my grave claiming I did no such thing. I eventually just said, "It will be my privilege Mr. Darcy, but do not say I failed to warn you."


	4. Introduction

I called Mr. Collins over, and the formidable introduction was made with my best attempt at reigning the ridiculous man in, and the expected result.

_My cousin prefaced his speech with a solemn bow and though _I truly wished_ I could not hear a word of it, I heard it al. _He rambled on for what seemed like a good five minutes, liberally injecting the words _"apology," "Hunsford," and "Lady Catherine de Bourgh" _in an endless litany that eventually worked his way up to indicating that Mr. Darcy's aunt and cousin were in the best of health Saturday week when he had last seen them. On and on my cousin prattled until I was beginning to wonder if this level of embarrassment was to be my lot in life.

I looked at Mr. Darcy, thoroughly expecting to see his_ contempt abundantly increasing with the length of Mr. Collins' second speech_, but what happened was completely outside of my expectations, although it would later occur to me to wonder why my expectation remained so low after the previous half‑hour.

Mr. Darcy finally managed to slide in a sentence or two when even Mr. Collins required a breath.

"Mr. Collins, I thank you for that report. I have had a letter from Lady Catherine a month ago, and I would say six weeks for my cousin, so it is good to have a more recent update."

At this point, I looked at him in astonishment, and _he winked at me_. Men do not do that… well, except in silly romance novels, but I am certain he did so. Then he did something even more astonishing.

"I am curious, Mr. Collins. As you probably know, I visit my aunt each Easter to review her accounts and help her with any estate issues she needs. I am quite familiar with the operation of Rosings. I believe my aunt was planning several improvements to the parsonage. Can you tell me if they have been done, and if the work is to your satisfaction?"

By this point, I had entirely given up on making any sense out of the exchange, and much like someone in a boat going down the rapids in a river (not that I would ever approach either a boat or rapids, but I do like to read about them), I just sat back to enjoy the ride.

Mr. Collins could now wax poetic about the changes to the parsonage, and it took me some time to determine if the great Lady Catherine had torn down the parsonage and replaced it with a castle, or he just took delight in the smallest thing. The answer became clear when several minutes were consumed with a description of the angle of the stairs and the shelves in a closet. He was just being ridiculous, but then something hit me. This was a thought of such singularity that I almost gasped in surprise.

_Mr. Darcy was being kind to Mr. Collins__. In fact, aside from Jane, Mary and possibly my Aunt Phillips, he was the __only__ person on Hertfordshire that had ever been kind to the parson. _True, he was an annoying and vexing man, but he was honorable as far as I know, and respectable. His position was quite eligible for the right woman, but my father and I had spent the entire time just making sport of the man. I had been grousing about Mr. Darcy's manners for six weeks, but right here and right now, he was showing me how a real gentleman behaved, and I found myself shamed. Of course, _I still did not want to either dance with Mr. Collins, marry him or need to reject a proposal; but I could have shown him more kindness._

I am afraid these reflections left me in deep thought for quite some time, and I missed about half of what the two gentlemen discussed, but I eventually came back to my senses in time to see Mr. Darcy once again astound me with his next statement.

"Mr. Collins, may I presume on our short acquaintance and our shared relationship with Lady Catherine and ask you a somewhat personal question?"

Mr. Collins may have taken as much as a minute to answer the question, but somehow, Mr. Darcy slowed him down long enough to continue.

"I understand from my aunt that you are in want of a wife, is that correct?"

I just about passed out on the floor or smacked the insufferable man across the temple with my fan. I refrained when he gave me a bit of a soft look… but it was a near thing.

Mr. Collins once again gave a fulsome and detailed answer. He somehow refrained from naming me specifically, but he looked at me like I was the main course on the best menu of his life, and his meaning could not have been clearer. Whether it was admiration or avarice was difficult to tell, but it was clear he had an opinion on the subject, and the only thing keeping him silent was his thin hold on the rules of propriety. _Even Mr. Collins_ knew that to declare anything publicly when he had not even asked permission of myself or my father would be too much.

Without batting an eye, Mr. Darcy pulled out a letter from his pocket, and said, "Mr. Collins, I have a missive here from the most important female in my life, and I believe I have been charged with assisting you. Am I to understand you have no father or uncle handy to advise you here in Hertfordshire?"

Mr. Collins looked a bit perplexed, but much to my shock he replied succinctly, "My esteemed father is dead sir, and I have no uncles or other close relatives."

For the first time, I actually felt a bit of sympathy for Mr. Collins. He said the word _esteemed_ in a way that said _accursed_ would be a better word if he dared use it, and for the very first time I wondered what kind of upbringing would account for his behavior. That left me with the uncomfortable feeling that more thinking about parents and children might either bring enlightenment or pain. I liked to make sport of Mr. Collins, but neither Lydia nor Kitty were noticeably better… nor was my mother for that matter. Perhaps I had been too quick to give fault. I certainly had with Mr. Darcy. Of course, when _that_ thought popped into my head I thought maybe I should smack my own had with my fan.

In the meantime, Mr. Darcy had, in quite an unruffled and imperturbable manner, unfolded the letter from the _most important female_. When he did so, he held it in front of me where I could see it, and then did the sneakiest, must underhanded, most reprehensible thing you could imagine. Worst of all, I had no idea how he did it, but in the shuffle and unfolding the letter and showing it to me, he somehow hooked my left hand, put it in the crook of his arm, and pulled me closer _so I could see the letter_. Yes, he was definitely going to get a fan across the temple… eventually.

He continued completely without pause.

"Mr. Collins, I will not pretend to be a wise old man. I am not even married yet, but if you wish some advice, I graduated Cambridge with honors and have been the master of a great estate for more than five years, so I know a few things. More importantly, I will be happy to parrot advice given to me by my own father and uncles."

At this, I was worried that Mr. Collins was likely to fall over dead right on the spot. This would have solved my matrimonial problems quite handily, but it would also prevent my learning who my mysterious first dance partner was, so all in all, I reckoned I would prefer him alive for the time being.

Mr. Darcy in the meantime, did not even slow down, but I had a bit of a hard time following the first minute or so of advice he gave Mr. Collins, because my attention was caught by the letter from the _most important female_. Mr. Collins naturally assumed he was talking about Lady Catherine, but I ascertained that unless Lady Catherine had taken the unusual habit of signing her letters with _'your loving sister, Georgiana',_ this letter was in fact _not_ from Lady Catherine. Of course, Mr. Darcy's sister was the most important female in his life, but his implication it could be someone else was just a bit disingenuous. For what purpose? Of course, I did not have much time to think about that, as the next thing I noticed was my own name appearing no less than three times on that page. I wondered what other _Miss Elizabeth_ Mr. Darcy and his sister spent so much time talking about. Perhaps another cousin - the name was common enough? Of course, now was not the time to wonder, as Mr. Darcy was a bit relentless once he got wound up.

"Mr. Collins, let us get back to the matter of your perspective wife. May I presume to offer you some guidance?"

Mr. Collins started another speech, but Mr. Darcy was too fast for him, and just continued relentlessly.

"First off Mr. Collins, I will repeat what my father told me and hope his advice is good enough for you. At this moment, may I presume you have someone who is the _most important female in your life_?"

I saw Mr. Collins swallow in the effort to _not_ say Lady Catherine's name yet again, and he just nodded.

Mr. Darcy nodded, and said, "Good! Now, whoever this person is, _after you get married, she will become the __second__ most important female in your life. Your wife has to come first."_

Mr. Collins looked on in shock, and I had to admit that I found such a liberal view in the apparently traditional Mr. Darcy somewhat surprising. It was an entirely sensible and obvious sentiment, but not very common among the men I knew.

Not yet finished, Mr. Darcy relentlessly continued, "By second most important, I mean second most important by a _wide margin_ Mr. Collins. Your wife is _second to none_ until you have children, and then they become as important. The family must come first."

Mr. Collins was by now nodding, and I could practically see smoke coming off his head with the idea of Lady Catherine being anything other than first. I had no idea if the new idea would ever sink in, but maybe I could give him the benefit of the doubt… so long as that new most important person in his life was _not__me__._

I chanced a glance at Mr. Darcy, and he seemed intent and amused. The two emotions would seem to be in conflict, but I had to sheepishly admit that he pulled it off very well. His next tack was a bit surprising.

"Now, Mr. Collins, let us get down to it. My aunt would expect you to bring home a gentlewoman, especially since she will eventually be mistress of Longbourn, and she should be versed in the management of an estate. Is this in accordance with your understanding?"

Mr. Collins once again launched into a litany of Lady Catherine's instructions, which Mr. Darcy bore with patience for as long as he could, and then he somehow got him wound down.

Mr. Darcy then caught me by surprise by pulling me a bit closer with his right arm. I was surprised to see my hand still attached to his elbow, and even more surprised to find that I did not really mind. I might extract a penance for his impertinence later, but for the moment I was… content.

He then looked right at me and unleashed that deadly smile and said, "Miss Elizabeth, may I presume you know all the gentlewomen of marriageable age in the neighborhood?"

I managed to refrain from rolling my eyes… barely, and said, "Of course, Mr. Darcy. Should I enumerate them?"

"Yes, if you do not mind."

I was wondering if there was a point to this exercise but decided to go along.

"Well, there are the Bennets as you know. Then there are the Lucases, the Gouldings, the Longs, the Harrises and the Thompsons. Most of the other four and twenty families have no daughters, or they are too old, too young or too married. All told, over a dozen ladies."

Mr. Darcy just nodded as if we were working on a business problem together. I cringed a little bit, realizing that there were _very few eligible men_ in the region, and there were over a dozen competing for any that did show up. Things were not looking promising for my marriage prospects. Oh, I was not desperate enough to consider Mr. Collins, but _someone would_.

Mr. Darcy rubbed his chin in thought, which frankly looked adorable. He used the arm that I had my hand attached to, which gave me the perfect excuse to release it. I found myself quite surprised to see that was in fact his intent… to give me a casual way to release his arm, but he also did it gently enough that there was no awkwardness should I wish to retain it. I surprised myself by leaving my hand exactly where it was as he continued.

"That is a lot of ladies to consider, Mr. Collins. Since I know my own aunt well, let us see if we can narrow the field a bit, shall we?"

Mr. Collins was quite incapable of failing to agree with any plan of a Mr. Darcy, so he nodded vigorously.

Somewhat slyly, Mr. Darcy asked, "Mr. Collins, I am new to the neighborhood myself. Would you be willing to treat Miss Elizabeth as an expert on the local gentry population? I believe her knowledge to be superior to ours… not that ours is anything to boast of."

The last was said with a self-deprecating chuckle, and surprisingly, Mr. Collins chuckled along with him. I would never have thought the parson capable of understanding even basic humor, so maybe he was not entirely unredeemable.

Mr. Darcy then became very businesslike.

"First off, we should eliminate all those ladies that are too young for marriage. I believe my aunt would find anyone under eighteen years of age to probably be too young and silly. Would you not agree Mr. Collins… Miss Elizabeth?"

Mr. Collins spent a minute or so agreeing, and I agreed through the simple expedient of answering the implied question.

"I quite agree Mr. Darcy. That eliminates my two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia. It also eliminates Mariah Lucas, Annabelle Long, Janet Goulding and Amy Long."

Mr. Darcy nodded sagely, and said, "So that leaves the three eldest Bennets, Miss Charlotte Lucas and?"

I rounded out the list with, "Miss Bethany Harris and Miss Annabelle Thompson."

Mr. Darcy nodded again, and said, "Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. This is very helpful. Do you not agree Mr. Collins?"

Mr. Collins definitely agreed, so Mr. Darcy casually continued, but shocked me with his next.

"The eldest Miss Bennet is obviously being courted, so we can eliminate her."

I agreed enthusiastically while trying to restrain myself from shouting in joy.

Mr. Darcy just grinned at me and continued relentlessly.

"My aunt will want someone well versed in both religious matters, and in practical concerns around the house as the parsonage will not have a large contingent of servants. Does that eliminate anyone, Miss Elizabeth."

Mr. Collins looked very much like he wanted to say he had already made his choice, but every time he tried to wind himself up to say it, Mr. Darcy just carried on relentlessly. I thought his plan sound, so answered his question.

"If I answer that question, it must be in the strictest confidence. It could well be considered disrespectful." I stared hard at my cousin, and continued, "I already have Mr. Darcy's confidence. I will have your word as a future gentleman sir that this is between us. You will repeat it to no one, _not even Lady Catherine!"_

Mr. Collins looked at me curiously, as if I was wholly unexpectedly different from what he had in mind. I was not sure if he liked what he saw or not, but eventually had did give me his word.

Nodding, I said, "That criteria limits you to the eldest Bennet sisters, Charlotte Lucas, Louisa Goulding and Annabelle Thompson. The others are… er… let us just say _not_ as Mr. Darcy just required."

Mr. Collins nodded a bit, and Mr. Darcy continued.

"Now, this next part is awkward… well…", and he looked a bit flustered.

Mr. Collins said, "Pray, continue, sir!"

Mr. Darcy then said, "My aunt prefers the ladies of her intimate circle to be… er… somewhat… er… quiet and demure. She does not abide impertinence well, no matter how elegant and ladylike. She most definitely would disapprove of a parson's wife with an education better than her own or her daughter's. I fear that would eliminate you, Miss Elizabeth… no offense."

No Offense! _No Offense! __**NO OFFENSE!**_It took a few minutes to calm down enough to laugh at myself. At that moment, I thought the insufferable man had managed to convert the rap he was due on the head with my fan into a kiss. I saw the quirk of one corner of his mouth and had a sudden epiphany. This entire half‑hour had been designed by him _just to deliver that line_. I had asked him to protect me for an hour, and he, apparently being competitive, decided to protect me from Mr. Collins for my whole life. I wanted to jump up and dance around, and could hardly wait for him to work through his obscure protocol to ask me for permission to request the supper dance, because make no mistake… I intended to dance and sup with him.

Secure with the radiant smile I must have on my face, he delivered the coup-de-grace.

"So, Mr. Collins, it seems you owe Miss Elizabeth some thanks for making your task much easier. If you require a wife, you should consider Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Charlotte Lucas, Miss Louisa Goulding or Miss Annabelle Thompson. Is that about it, Miss Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Mr. Darcy. So long as Mr. Collins prefers to find a wife in Hertfordshire, I could happily recommend any of those." I omitted the subtext, _anybody but me._


	5. Advice

I suspect I was practically glowing. I had a good dance in front of me, and two of my greatest fears alleviated. I would not have to dodge a proposal from Mr. Collins, and Mr. Darcy seemed to have no concerns about Jane and Mr. Bingley.

Mr. Darcy was not quite finished, though.

"So, Mr. Collins. I believe you have a very good start on your search. May I offer you a service, and a bit of advice?"

Mr. Collins looked like he was unsure if he has ecstatic or disappointed in the task ahead, but he definitely would not dissuade Mr. Darcy from advising him, so he replied, vigorously.

"Remember, Mr. Collins. When you marry, you will spend _every day with your wife for the rest of your life_. There is nothing worse than a miserable marriage. Make sure you find a woman that matches your character, a woman that makes sense, a woman that you can respect and honor. May I ask you sir, have you performed many weddings?"

Mr. Collins looked perplexed, but then indicated that he had.

"Good. You should be able to recite the vows from memory?"

"Yes"

I was astounded. A one-word answer.

Mr. Darcy looked at him quite intently and said, "When you take the vows yourself, you will _say them and mean them… __every__single__word__!_ Take your time, Mr. Collins. You have the rest of your life. Make sure you marry a woman for which you can say all the words and follow them for all your life."

Somehow, something about Mr. Darcy calmed Mr. Collins down. Perhaps Mr. Darcy was right now being the father figure Mr. Collins never had, but I could see that he was having a profound effect. I imagined Mr. Darcy would be a good father when his time came, if this was an example of how it would be done.

Not quite done, he said, "Now, something even more important Mr. Collins. This is doubly important… triply important. Do I have your full and undivided attention sir?"

Mr. Collins stared at him in raptures, but simply nodded.

"Your bride has to say her own vows as well. Make certain before you offer your hand that _she can say her vows and mean every word__!_ Do not drag a lady to the alter against her inclination. It is up to you to show the lady the kind of man you are, and make sure you are the type of man that a lady can respect. Take your time, Mr. Collins. I shall write to my aunt and insist she give you enough time to do the job right, and since you may well be courting non‑Bennets, I will put you up at the inn at my expense to maintain decorum."

I could see that Mr. Collins had a lot to think about and could only hope he was up to it.

Very kindly, Mr. Darcy said, "Let us get to practical matters, Mr. Collins. This ball is your best chance to get to know these ladies. I suggest you release Miss Elizabeth and her sisters other than Miss Mary from any dances you may have solicited, and spend the time meeting the ladies Miss Elizabeth listed. I am sure none of your Bennet cousins will be offended."

At that, I wanted to kiss him again, but wisely refrained while Mr. Collins once again went into a long‑winded soliloquy that would eventually save me the mortification of dancing the second with him, for which I was eternally grateful.


	6. Brevity

Just as Mr. Collins was winding down, I heard the musicians tuning up for the first dance, and once again wondered at who Mr. Darcy had lined up for the onerous task, and when he would appear.

I was starting to look at the entire exchange with wonder. I started the evening with an enormous prejudice against Mr. Darcy, but it seemed that _he was the kindest man I knew. _The knowledge was tremendously disconcerting because it overturned every cherished idea I had about him, and about myself. I thought myself so clever to take such offense, but he had done a great service for both myself and Mr. Collins just because I indirectly asked him to. My father, a blood relative did nothing but ridicule the man, that whatever his faults, was respectable and _would_ eventually be master of Longbourn. We all might be dependent on him some day, but not a single Bennet had treated Mr. Collins with even basic respect. Up until that very moment, I don't think I knew myself, and I was not all that happy with the newfound knowledge. I vowed to myself right there and then that I would thank Mr. Darcy most profusely for teaching me a lesson that would be much to my benefit.

Mr. Darcy however was not quite finished with Mr. Collins.

"Mr. Collins, would you object to a bit more advice that may not be to your taste, but could be to your benefit?"

Mr. Collins seemed deep in thought, but to his credit he gave Mr. Darcy his full attention, so the gentleman continued.

"Mr. Collins, my advice to you is to talk less and listen more. Please do not take it too hard. We all have our faults. Miss Elizabeth can tell you that I mostly stand around like a bad-tempered statue… perhaps a gargoyle, or even say truly offensive things when I am uncomfortable. Or I say too little for fear of saying something inappropriate. You have the opposite problem and say too much. Either one of us could well take lessons from Miss Elizabeth and it would be greatly to our benefit."

To say I was surprised would be quite he understatement, but I felt the compliment keenly and replied with perhaps the biggest smile to date. The man was definitely safe from my fan.

Mr. Collins looked torn between taking the word of someone so highly placed at face value, and mortification at the criticism, but finally, he surprised both of us by saying simply, "I believe you may be correct, sir."

I wondered what was going on in his head, but was surprised when he looked thoughtful for quite some time, before looking at Mr. Darcy and asking, "How is it to be done, sir?"

I surprised myself by giving my cousin another smile, which was getting to be a most disagreeable habit; but I was just astounded and could use that as my excuse.

Mr. Darcy gave the man what I would call his _father's smile_, that his children would be privileged to see, and replied.

"Nothing worthwhile is easy, Mr. Collins. You will have to find your own way, but here are a few guidelines. Listen more and talk less… a lot more and a lot less. Make sure you _listen_ and _understand_ every word of your conversations. If it helps, try to count the words in the dialogue and insure you account for less than half."

Quite surprisingly, Mr. Collins replied, "I can see that, sir. It is sensible advice. I may have to give it some thought, and naturally I will discuss the idea with my patroness, the noble Lady Catherine and see what she has to say on the matter."

Much to his credit, Mr. Darcy did not cringe at the suggestion, but merely soldiered on.

"One more thing, Mr. Collins. Assume your conversation partner is at least as smart as you are and be willing to admit when they are smarter. For example, I freely admit that Miss Elizabeth is quite a bit cleverer than I am and find no shame in the admission. I intend to ask her advice on any number of issues in future."

At that statement I gasped and stared at him in shock, and he just unleashed that devilish smile at me, thus rendering me perhaps not as clever as he asserted. He of course just kept plowing forward.

"Try not to repeat yourself, Mr. Collins. Always assume that your conversational partner has understood what you said unless they ask for clarification, and if you are talking to someone with a superior mind, you may even assume they understand things that have _not__ been said explicitly_. Assume they can read between the lines to the underlying meaning. Give them the respect of understanding their intelligence."

At that point, both Mr. Collins and I were hanging on every word, and he blithely continued.

"Would you like a demonstration of the power of this idea, Mr. Collins? I can show you how you can have an entire conversation… an important conversation with very crucial questions and answers… with _just two words_. Would you care to see that?"

Mr. Collins looked blankly at Mr. Darcy, as I am certain I was doing as well, and then in the first sign of true intelligence I think I had ever seen in him, my cousin Collins sported a huge grin and said, "Show me!"

I was hardly any less eager to see this demonstration myself, and I could also tell from the sound of the musicians that the first dance was just about to begin, and I had yet to see my mysterious dance partner. Of course, now that Mr. Collins had been turned on his head it was a bit of a moot point, but I was curious.

Mr. Darcy turned around to face me directly, which had the effect of finally removing my hand from his arm, although it happened in a smooth and elegant way since I was watching him intently. I was burning with curiosity to see what the two words were.

Mr. Darcy held out his left hand to me, palm up, and said, "Miss Elizabeth."


	7. Two Words

For a moment that seemed to go on forever, I quit breathing. _Two words! Two words!_ The insufferable man never mentioned that he was a cheater of the first order, because somehow in the last hour he had wormed his way into my confidence, and now he was backing his two words up with a smile that would knock Jane or Mr. Bingley over. _Two words_ that could just as well have been the three words everyone longs all their lives to hear. _Two words_ that said all the words that could ever be said.

He just stood there rooted to the spot, calmly holding out his hand as it all came crashing into my conscience. Going back to the first dance, he had asserted that he had a gentleman who could make a good case that he was owed a dance. Since he had asked me twice or thrice for a dance and been denied, you could readily agree that I owed him the first set. _We did not even need the Propriety Fiction._ True, he had not _specifically_ asked for this set, but it was not out of the realm of possibility. He had been planning to dance the first all along but wanted to… well… he wanted to make me comfortable. That realization was nearly as shocking as those that followed.

The rest came into my mind whole and complete all at once, because Fitzwilliam Darcy had just given me the _three most precious gifts_ of my life.

The _first gift_ was that he had just now, standing right here in plain view of Mr. Collins and the entire ensemble, given me the gift of his _respect_. Yes, he had said it a few minutes earlier, but words cost nothing. Mr. Collins might improve, but to date he had filled the air with meaningless words. Mr. Darcy said few words, but he gave me the respect of assuming I listened to him and understood him, even when he was not talking to me. The respect of a man of sense and education was nothing to be lightly dismissed, and it made me feel warm inside. I had only seen one example of true respect in marriage, that of my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and that was enough to make me want it with every fiber of my being. In a dozen ways, Mr. Darcy had spent the last hour showing me that he respected me… even doing so slowly and gradually to prevent shock. He was telling me he respected my intelligence enough to understand what he was saying, even if he did not say it directly.

The _second gift_ was the supreme power of _choice_. All his allusions to the dances all made perfect sense now. It was the way of our society that women must walk a very narrow line while the men got to pick and choose. As women, if we show our preference too much, we were wanton or forward. Show not enough and we were uncaring and unengaged. Either way, it was up to us to walk the imaginary line until a man showed his preference, and then we had no choice except the power to say no - and not always even that.

Now, with _two words_, Mr. Darcy turned the entire process on its head. The idea that three dances was tantamount to an engagement was a bit of a myth, _but __not for Mr. Darcy__._ He had given me the explicit choice of which dances we would dance, and the speed of our courtship would depend on it. _He was dancing the first set with me._ Opening the dance with me made his preference public, but without generating _unreasonable_ expectations or gossip. It was more important than any other dance, but not committing. If he danced the _first_ and _supper_ with me, he would be in my father's bookroom asking for a formal courtship before tomorrow was out. That meant I could have a courtship by simply giving him permission to request the supper set. The only way he would dance the _first__, __last__ and __supper_ with me is if we were betrothed. It was just not something he would do, so he was offering me a choice. Yes-No, Fast-Slow, it was all my choice. Here and now, he had put his life in my hands, and he was just standing there patiently waiting for an answer with his heart on his sleeve.

The _third gift_ he gave me was the power of his trust and affection. It was now oh so obvious. _All those looks had been looks of admiration._ All those debates we had at Netherfield were simply for the pleasure of the conversation. Everything he did tonight, he did partly because he is a good man, but in the end, it seemed obvious - he did it for me. He had just trusted me to do the right thing and given me permission to order the entire rest of his life by my choosing. Right there, right then, I was given the power over the twist and turn our future would take.

I admired his patience waiting for me to work it out, and then I suddenly realized something. _I admired him __full__stop_. He had given me the supreme gift of a good long glimpse into his soul, and the trust in my judgment to treat it as he deserved, and I was not about to let either of us down.

I felt a smile of prodigious proportions grace my face, and decided that just this once, I would best him. If he was going to have a brevity contest by asking for my heart and soul and hand with _two words_, I would answer with one. Watching him intently, I reached down, carefully removed my left glove, and said, _"Finito"_.


	8. Finito

Exactly as I expected, Mr. Darcy reached into his waistcoat, extracted the leather pouch Mr. Smithson had retrieved earlier, and placed what I would later learn was his grandmother's ring on my finger. Just like that, with _three words_, my life was decided. I was now betrothed to a man I was certain loved me. My own feelings could not possibly have changed from dislike all the way to love in an hour, but I was certain it would soon enough. In truth, I believe I was already in love with him, but I would be slow and cautious with my feelings, and not admit to being head over heels until at least the midpoint of our first dance. I liked him tremendously. I respected him enormously. I would love him soon. That was more than enough.

Mr. Collins was standing there staring at us, but I could not be bothered to worry about him. He surprised me though by saying, "Am I privileged to be the first to wish you joy, Cousin?"

I simply nodded, unwilling to sully the moment with any words.

Much to my surprise, Mr. Collins added, "I will cherish this conversation all my life. Mr. Darcy. Cousin Elizabeth. I wish you joy. Fear not. I can see this is not public, so I will bask in the glory of having witnessed it, enjoy being in your confidence, and will say nothing. I must go for my dance with Miss Mary. Good fortune."

I watched him go with some bemusement, then looked around to see if anyone had noticed us. Astoundingly, nobody appeared to have done so, which boded well. I wanted a few minutes of privacy, although I well knew speculation would start running rampant when I stood up for the first with my secret betrothed.

With some regret, I pulled my glove back on, then gave my hand back to the future father of my children, and we left for our first of many dances.

* * *

Oh, my first dance with Fitzwilliam was wonderful. _I took my place in the set, amazed at the dignity to which I was arrived in being allowed to stand opposite to Mr. Darcy, and reading in my neighbours' looks, their equal amazement in beholding it. _Well, who am I kidding. I couldn't possibly spare even one thought for my neighbors, nor did I need to spend any more time talking with Fitzwilliam. I asked him for his given name while walking around to the top of the set, smiled sweetly at Jane as she looked at us with open amazement, closed my ears to the high-pitched screech Mama made seeing me standing up with Mr. £10,000 and just danced. Every time my hand came in contact, I could feel my ring practically burning a hole through my glove. Every time my mouth thought to contort itself out of a smile I… well, again, who am I kidding. I am sure I looked like the silly besotted fool I was… All I had to do to match that look was copy my betrothed.

Fitzwilliam looked _so so so so different_. He had a look of pure happiness, and I realized I had never seen him with anything but a look of confusion or fear… or both. He had _so diligently protected his heart_ and tried his best to match all the expectations his family must have beat into his head with a mallet, until he just lost it. When love breached all his defenses, he was swamped and never looked back.

We finished the dance having not said a word the entire time. Our dance partners noticed our silence but did not comment on it… while they were next to us.

When the dance ended half a moment later, we oh-so-casually sauntered over to find Papa for his blessing. Fitzwilliam asked if it would be a problem, and I replied with a question about the relative odds of Papa being able to stand against the combined weight of a gentleman of his standing, his favorite daughter and his wife. Poor Papa! It really was not a fair fight, and he knew it had been lost with a single glance at us.

When Fitzwilliam stood in front of him, I expected the traditional dressing down and detailed question fathers live for. Instead, he just gave us an intense look, and stared at my left glove. I removed it without a word, showed him the ring, and he kissed my hand.

It appeared that brevity was becoming quite the fashion.

I finally thought I should be a bit more explicit, so I said, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. Twenty-six. Yes."

Fitzwilliam just chuckled, and replied, "Can you be more specific? Those are all good answers, so what are the questions?"

With a big smile I said, "Yes, you may request the supper set. Yes, you will be granted the set. Yes, to your request for the last set. Yes, I will marry you. Yes, I will love, honor and respect you all our lives one month from today on the 26th of December. Yes, you may kiss me at your leisure so long as your leisure occurs in the next three minutes."

I am not sure exactly what he said, because he dragged me behind a pillar out of sight and kissed me within an inch of my life.


	9. Epilogue

Our betrothal was to be announced at the start of supper, but between our first kiss and supper, we by mutual wordless agreement came out from behind the pillar just to make sure the engagement period was measured in weeks instead of minutes or hours.

Fitzwilliam asked, "Elizabeth, I see Bingley and Miss Bennet. Can we tell them the news?"

"Of course!"

We were out from behind the pillar, grinning like fools, but even all the gossips in the room had kind of lost track of us, so we were in relative privacy. Fitzwilliam managed to get Mr. Bingley's attention, and he started over with Jane on his arm. They would have had to be simpletons indeed to miss our dance. Of course, a dance does not a betrothal make, so they were unaware of our current status.

As they walked toward us, Fitzwilliam turned to me and said, "Elizabeth, the wedding is the purview of the bride, but do you think you would be willing to cede me control over just _one tiny little detail. _I have one specific thing I would like to arrange at the wedding."

I laughed and told him he was welcome to work with my mother and control _all the details of the wedding_, and his look of horror was just priceless.

When Jane and Mr. Bingley approached, Fitzwilliam quickly spoke up.

"Miss Bennet, may I humbly request the brother's privilege of calling you Jane, as Elizabeth has very graciously agreed to become my wife."

Jane was completely overcome, and just nodded her assent then jumped over to hug me tight while Mr. Bingley slapped my future husband on the back hard enough to raise a bruise I would eventually have to kiss away. It was odd that we had managed to reduce both Jane Bennet and Charles Bingley to a state of complete silence, a feat I would have previously considered impossible.

Fitzwilliam was not _quite finished_ though.

"My future bride has ceded me control of one small, tiny, insignificant detail of the wedding, but I will need your help. Are you amenable?"

Both just nodded again. They had gravitated back to each other, so the two couples were now facing each other, a couple feet apart.

Fitzwilliam continued, "Now, I believe both of you would be willing to act as witnesses, yes?"

Both nodded in happy agreement, their smiles matching ours.

Fitzwilliam continued, "We will be married on the 26th of December in…"

He looked at me questioningly, and I replied, "Longbourn Chapel."

He continued, "… yes, Longbourn Chapel. Now here is my request. Could we alter the traditional arrangement ever so slightly? Bingley, if you would stand about two paces to the left of the traditional position, and Jane, you stand one pace to the left, why we could have two weddings at the same time with hardly any more trouble and expense than one. What say you?"

Both their eyes got as round as saucers at the sheer, unadulterated insanity of the request.

Finally, they looked at each other, and Mr. Bingley simply raised one eyebrow in a questioning manner, and Jane simply smiled wide and nodded.

Just like that, Fitzwilliam and my brevity contest seemed ever so silly. We were so proud of our _three words_, but I had just seen my sister become betrothed and agree to a wedding date and ceremony with _not a single word spoken_.

That was going to be tough to beat.

~~ Finis ~~

* * *

_Well, there you have it gang. Story 18. I did warn you it's fluffy, so I hope you enjoyed it. I always wondered if Darcy could have been 'captured' with a bit less violence if he reached the tipping point sooner, and let's face it… who doesn't want to see them together._

_Wade_


End file.
